Self-referential ... At times... words carry a weight in Portuguese that is absent from the English ... There is no English text without its Portuguese counterpart, no story without an origin, no daughter without mother, no immigrant without birthplace—but there is also no immigrant without a new home, no daughter without an identity of her own, no story without a middle, and an end, and no Portuguese, anymore, without English layered atop it, redefining, translating, forcing a fictionalizing cycle.
Has a placid surface, not quite toneless but reserved, reflective. The troubles that arise may disturb the speaker’s composure, but their persistence provides a basis for assessment and wondering.
Told in simple but moving language, the book draws one into what must be a largely autobiographical novel ... It’s that deeply emotional, clear writing that conveys so much in Dantas Lobato’s writing. She says so much with so few words we don’t have to imagine what is going on, we feel it and see it and hear it. That is the gift of good writing.
This moving novel captivates with its exploration of love and separation, motherhood and daughterhood, and the comfort and inspiration found in maintaining a bond across the miles.
An intimate meditation on home and homesickness, belonging and wanting to belong, on what it means to leave and be left, and the many tiny ways of attempting to bridge an impossible distance.
